


Keeping Cap

by Greggles_Lestrade



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greggles_Lestrade/pseuds/Greggles_Lestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few glances into Sam and Steve’s life. </p><p>"He knew that this was a suicide mission, that mere seconds after the hit he would be brought down, but he was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of pelting Steve’s face with shaving cream."</p><p>*Star Spangled Exchange 2014*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Cap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjjat3am](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/gifts).



> jjjat3am requested a curtain fic, this is the result. I hope you like my attempt at domesticity.
> 
> I'm Catchingspace on tumblr, come and say hi!

Somewhere in between looking for Bucky and scraping up the remnants of SHIELD, Steve had unofficially moved in with Sam Wilson. They both had this realization within five minutes of one another. Steve's realization came when he caught himself making a mental note about picking up a new bottle of conditioner at the store. And Sam’s, when he looked up from the dinner dishes to see Steve messily drying his hair while casually asking about the choice of movie for that night. They caught each other’s eyes for half a minute, knowing that the other was thinking the exact same thing, before Sam responded with “The Princess Bride, trust me, you’ll like it.” Steve replied with a nod, looking down at the back of the DVD and reading the description again. Sam allowed his eyes to linger on Steve’s body: the way his sweat pants hung on his hips, the curve of his lower back, the droplet of water that ran down his chest. When his eyes finally made their return trip up to Steve’s face, Sam found a raised eyebrow and a smirk waiting for him.

“Well? Finish the dishes and get your ass in here.” Steve said, walking around the couch to set up the movie. Sam smiled and shook his head as he turned back to finish drying the last couple of dishes. Whoever said that Steve Rogers was the epitome of innocence was terribly mistaken.

Sam dried his hands and turned off the light in the kitchen, leaving the television to illuminate the living room. He hopped over the back of the couch and landed right beside Steve. “Hit it.”

 

Steve never officially asked Sam out on a date, they just got into the habit of trading off the dinner bill when they went out. It was a completely normal thing for friends to do, according to the mantra Sam repeated to himself every time Steve took care of the bill. Sam had taken to debating whether said mantra was accurate and had developed a list of points for and against it:

> For: Natasha always tried to set Steve up with women, Sam could assume that Steve was mostly straight.
> 
> Against: None of Sam’s other friends had this arrangement with him.
> 
> Against: Recently Natasha had stopped trying to set Steve up on dates.
> 
> For: Maybe Steve just wasn’t up for dating at the current moment in his life, it was understandable considering everything that had happened.
> 
> Against: Steve never corrected the waiter/waitresses when they assumed that they were together, on multiple occasions.
> 
> Against: Neither did Sam.

It was five-thirty and Sam was sitting on the couch watching highlights of the Falcon/Seahawks football game, looking forward to calling Clint Barton up to rub his team’s victory in his face, when Steve walked out of his bedroom. He was buttoning up the last buttons of a long sleeved sapphire blue shirt which, Sam noted, appeared to be ironed (he didn’t even remember owning an iron). “Dinner? I was thinking we could try that tiny restaurant we stumbled across that one time.” Steve said off hand, checking the buttons of his sleeves before looking up at him.

Sam was about to answer before he caught a whiff of something. He paused then asked, “Are you wearing cologne?”

Steve blinked at him, “I just got out of the shower,” and shrugged.

“You ironed your shirt.”

“It had wrinkles.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“What issue?”

“The issue that you’re wearing cologne.”

“That’s an issue? When did wearing cologne become an issue?”

“When we’re just going out to get something to eat.”

Steve fidgeted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away to hide the faint starting of a blush.

Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, starting to get an idea of what might be happening, “What did you think we were doing?” He paused, “Because you’re dressed up awfully fancy for _just_ going to get something to eat.” He carefully watched the super soldier as the blush started to progress across his face and down his neck. Sam knew the night could go two ways: awkward, sad Steve, or happy, date Steve.

“Well I better get on something more suitable then.” Sam said, standing up and stretching slightly. “Sweat pants and a ratty tee shirt are probably not the best date attire.”

Steve’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Wha- you don’t have to- it was my fault, I assumed-“

“If I didn’t want it, I would have told you, Steve.” Sam shook his head and walked over to where Steve was. “Now move over, your old ass is blocking the way to my room.”

Steve gave him one of his half smiles that Sam loved so much as he side stepped out of the way.

 

It was too easy. Steve was just sitting on the couch watching what appeared to be Hell’s Kitchen (judging solely on the sounds of yelling and sobs), not expecting anything out of the blue. Now was Sam’s time to strike, but he had to be casual about it, act like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He knew that this was a suicide mission, that mere seconds after the hit he would be brought down, but he was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of pelting Steve’s face with shaving cream.

Sam walked down the hall and up to the back of the couch, saying right by Steve’s ear: “On your right.”

Steve made an adorable ‘huh?’ sound as turned his head slightly to look at his boyfriend. That was when Sam struck. He only had a second to start running when: “SAMUEL THOMAS WILSON!” Steve shouted as shaving cream started sliding down the left side of his face from Sam’s trick.. As soon as Sam stepped into the bedroom he was tackled from behind onto the bed, no match for the super soldier’s speed. Steve pressed his left cheek against Sam’s, effectively transferring some of the shaving cream onto him. “Is that you telling me that I need to shave?” He rubbed their cheeks together, letting Sam feel the prickle of his five o’clock shadow (he didn’t feel like shaving that morning).

“No, that was just me being-”

“An asshole?”

“ _-Playful._ ”

“Oh, so that’s what that was.” Steve hummed, “I see.”

“Yeah, so if you could get off of me, you’re too big to be a lap dog, Cap.”

“You know I’m going to get you back for this later, right?” Steve said into Sam’s ear.

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Good.” Steve said and rolled off Sam with a smile. “I’ll make dinner tonight then.” Sam’s head whipped around to see Steve as he walked out of the bedroom. He had to be on his guard tonight.

Unfortunately, after being on guard all throughout dinner, he was soaked when he turned on the kitchen sink to do the dishes that night.

 

It was a really stupid idea, in Sam’s opinion, and he didn’t know why he let Steve and Bucky talk him into it. Especially since they were going to Stark’s Halloween party. Steve had on a USO girl uniform, thanks to a bet he had with Clint (which was secretly Sam’s idea because the image of Steve Rogers in a short skirt was too great to pass up). And Bucky decided to go in his pajamas (an adult bear onesie that Nat had bought him as a joke, that he had actually worn more than once because it was apparently comfortable).

Of course nothing topped Tony Stark as Doctor Frank-n-Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show. “Wow, that was more of you than I wanted to see, Stark.” Sam blinked as Steve dragged him up to Tony and Pepper (a female Rocky, with golden shorts and a golden tube top).

“You know I look good, Wilson.” Tony smirked. “So it looks like the gang is all here,” He nodded to the rest of the Avengers who were by the bar. “Clint is Robin Hood, unsurprising I know. Natasha is a vampire, I’m not sure what her costume is. Ouch.” Tony rubbed his upper arm where Pepper had hit him. “Bruce is one of the Ghost Busters, he claims to be Egon but I’m not convinced. Thor is over by the couches-” He pointed to an adjoining room, “-with Darcy and Jane. He and Jane are Tarzan and Jane and Darcy is someone from some show that no one watches.”

Pepper frowns at Tony, “I think she said it was called Warehouse 13.”

“Never heard of it.” Tony shrugged. “Anyway, Agent is here also, ten guesses who he is?” Steve had, of course, already spotted Coulson, who was in a very realistic Captain America costume. Tony looked back at Steve, “Cap, you should go over there and make his wet dreams come true.” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony moved his attention to

Sam again. “Who the hell are you supposed to be, Wilson?”

“Uncle Sam.”

“I think you won the costume contest.” Pepper said in loo of Tony’s speechlessness.

His speechlessness was only temporary of course, “That is so clever, why didn’t I think of that?” Tony said, his eyes wide.

“Because you’re not Sam.” Steve said with a grin, grabbing Sam’s arm and dragging him away.

Tony yelled back, “Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go!”

Meanwhile, across the room:  
“Hey, Captain.” Steve threw an arm around a wide-eyed Coulson’s shoulders.  
“This…IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”  
“Aw Husband no.” Clint pouted.


End file.
